I am not very social and I married abroad, so beside my family, only one friend and her nice could attend to my wedding.
We booked government run place for the wedding and party. The place was very historical and beautiful but because it is run by the government, you have to make some compromises with certain things. For example, you have to book their photographer and DJ, you have a limited menu for the dinner etc.
The place also had a restaurant, which stayed open. Our wedding took place in a garden gazebo.

The photographer told me before hand, that I would need to ask a friend or family member to attend the photography session, which took place right before the wedding. So, that they could help with the dress, if my dress was big. As they don’t use any assistance.
I thought, it wouldn’t be a problem, as I have an older sister. I asked her, if she could help.
She said, it wouldn’t be a problem.

At the day of the Wedding, my sister, her friend, her nice and I, went all to the hairdresser to get ready.
Together we went to the wedding place, were we meet the photographer and the rest of the guest.
The official wedding took place around 7pm but we arrived already early to take picture.
Right as we stepped out of the car my sister and my friend’s nice went off.
Leaving we struggling with the dress.
I thought, they maybe went to the toilet and would return any minute.

When the photographer arrived, my sister wasn’t seen anywhere.
Luckily, my friend stepped in to help.
And walked with us 2 hours to take pictures.

I was upset about my sister behaviour but I didn’t want to make a fuss about it at the wedding day.

After the wedding my mother told me what happened.
My parents, our relatives and my mother friend arrived early. My mother friend was feeling unwell and decided to order some snack to eat at the restaurant.
My sister and my friend’s niece came to say hello but when they found out, that all food and drinks, which were ordered , was billed to the wedding fee – meaning we had to pay. They started to order some food and dessert too.
So instead of helping me ad promised, my sister sat in the restaurant and ate lunch.

This is typical my sister, with food, the is able to forget anything..

We are having a family reunion at a location convenient to all. On Sunday my 24 y/o daughter & I (58y/o) decide to attend a local church. After the service we meet the minister, and after introductions he asks where are we from. She says ‘Colorado’, and I say ‘Louisiana’. He then inquires about our length of stay – we tell him it’s just for a long weekend. He then asks us if we have any plans to get married. My daughter tries unsuccessfully to stifle laughter, and I have to lead her away from the blushing, apologizing cleric.

Many years ago (late nineties, how is that already so long ago?), I took my first trip to Mexico. On my way out of the airport, near the taxi ranks, there were people trying to sell boxes of tatt to arriving visitors.
Young Man (maybe fourteen): hey mister! You want to buy a hammock? Local made, only $40! Best price!
Me: good grief! $40 for a hammock?
YM (accent magically almost entirely gone) looks around, steps closer and says: wait, you’re English?
Me, wary: yessss?
YM: oh, then $5 to you.
Me: huh?
YM: American tourists are dumb, they’ll pay anything for a souvenir.
And that’s how I got to lounge in the shade in my lovely hammock and the American family I was sharing a beach house with did not. (Yes I shared with my family, I’m not a monster).

Basic Military Training (BMT), in Singapore, is a 9 week boot camp that ends in a parade for the newly minted soldiers of Singapore (POP). BMT is arguably *the* rite of passage from boys to men, and POP is our way of celebrating the ending of the rite of passage.

It is also a very public event that soldiers are allowed to invite many guests to. Enough friends and family to fill a grandstand show up. Literally. The grandstand to watch the parade is utterly packed.

After the formal parade, friends and family descend from the grandstand to mingle with the soldiers. My section is no exception. My parents are hugging me, my older brother is slapping me on the back and my younger brother is more interested in his iPhone than me.

Then this quintet of really attractive girls (including identical twins) approach our section. They’re all dressed in branded stuff and are holding balloons and banners. A hush falls over us as we stare at them, wondering why they’re here. Rule of thumb, conscript soldiers have very little luck with women.

Then one of our sectionmates, whom we’ve fondly nicknamed (with permission) ‘Fatman’ goes to the front and approaches them without hesitation.

Fatman: “Hey girls!”

They all squeal and practically jump forwards, all hugging and kissing him and saying that he looks so macho now. (For the record, he doesn’t. Even BMT wasn’t able to make him any less obese. He looked like a green beach ball.) Then Fatman leaves, with two girls on either arm.

Me: “What. Just. Happened?”

Sectionmate #1: “He’s been holding out on us!”

Sectionmate #2: “I thought he said he didn’t have a girlfriend!”

Me: “Well obviously! He didn’t have *a* girlfriend. He has *five* of them!”

Sectionmate #3: “Damn it! How does a fatso like him have a harem?”

Sergeant: “God, I’m so jealous! I only had one girlfriend and she just Potong Jalan-ed me!”

Four other guys: “Me too! How is that fair?”

Mom: “Boys, boys. Maybe they like him because he’s smart and nice?”

Me: “Nope. Fatman isn’t exactly the sharpest sword in the world. Actually, he’s one of the dullest.”

Sectionmate #1: “Yeah, we practically had to carry him through BMT!”

Someone’s mom: “Personality boys. He’s got to be really nice and sweet.”

Sectionmate #3: “He’s a pushover! Not much of a personality in there.”

Me: “Yeah, he’s quite naively childish.”

Mom: “Is he rich?”

We all pause and think carefully.

All of us: “Actually, yeah. He’s rich.”

We all stare off at Fatman, with two girls on either arm.

Sergeant: “God, I’m so jealous.”

Everyone: *nods in agreement*

Our store has been condensing our Christmas stock, as it’s been selling quickly. It happens to be Black Friday, and my coworker and I are moving Christmas picks from one side of an aisle into the other side, so that it’s all on one side and the other is empty for other stock. Most customers are understanding. I have one, however, who isn’t.

I’m moving picks and this woman walks into the aisle. I apologize for the mess we’re making and try to stay out of her way.

Customer: “This is a bad day to do this.”

Me *in my head*: “We did it this way last year.”

I suspect I might have done this project the day before Thanksgiving had I not had to call in sick. But you never know. We weren’t going to wait until Saturday, because that was our truck day that week due to the holiday. Sometimes I wonder if people have any clue how retail works.